


The Kings and the Role-Play

by jaydee09



Series: Two Kings [23]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Arguing, M/M, Oral Sex, cross-dressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-03-30
Packaged: 2018-03-20 11:02:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3647892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaydee09/pseuds/jaydee09
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin and Thranduil have been together for some years and are turning into an old, married couple.  Their love-life is growing stale and they need something to drive their passion.  Will role-play be the answer?  Or will that just create more problems for them?</p><p>Twenty-third story in my Two Kings series!</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Kings and the Role-Play

 

 

.o00o.

 

The Kings and the Role-Play

 

Pt I

 

“All the World’s a Stage.”

 

Thranduil sat up in bed, seriously contemplating a detailed letter from Legolas, who was keeping things together back in Mirkwood whilst he was here with Thorin in Erebor.  There were problems that needed dealing with, it would appear.

 

Thorin leaned on an arm and watched him, gradually losing his patience.  “Let’s make love,” he finally said curtly.

 

“Oh…oh, alright,” replied Thranduil in a rather distracted manner.  And he placed the letter reluctantly upon the coverlet, got out of bed and bent over the mattress.  Thorin climbed out too and, seizing him by his slim hips, he thrust into him without any preliminaries and, closing his eyes, began to pound the elven king hard and fast.

 

At last, with a grunt, he finally came; but, when he opened his eyes once more, Thranduil was already reaching for the letter.  An irritated Thorin grabbed a towel and, pulling free, wiped them both off with angry strokes.  “Don’t you want one too?” he asked brusquely.  But Thranduil was already climbing back into bed.

 

“What?” he asked, absent-mindedly.  “Oh….perhaps tonight.”  And he carried on reading the letter with furrowed brow.

 

The dwarven king climbed in beside him and folded his arms across his powerful chest.  He glared for a bit in silence but, when the elf continued to ignore him, he seized the letter, screwed it into a ball and threw it on the floor.  Thranduil reached for it with a gasp.

 

“Oh, for goodness’ sake,” snapped Thorin.  “I haven’t exactly destroyed it.  Just leave it for a moment, will you?  We’ve got to talk.”

 

“What about?” replied the elf, still gazing anxiously at the screwed up piece of parchment.

 

Thorin rolled his eyes.  “About us.  About our relationship.  About our love-making.”

 

Thranduil blinked.  “What’s wrong with it?” he asked blankly.  “We still do it as often as we ever did, don’t we?”

 

It’s not the quantity but the quality,” sighed the dwarf in response.  “Haven’t you noticed?”

 

Thranduil was beginning to feel a bit irritated too: and, besides, he was dying to get back to that letter.  “Well, I did notice that your performance a few moments ago involved very little effort and no foreplay.  Not even a kiss.  It was just a quick in and out because you suddenly felt like a convenient fuck.”

 

“Have _you_ tried being romantic when your lover just presents his backside – with the greatest of reluctance – and makes it patently obvious that he would rather be doing something else?” growled the dwarven king.

 

“Well,” grumbled Thranduil beneath his breath, “I _would_ rather be doing something else.”

 

Thorin flung his arms wide.  “And there we have our problem.  Ours is the greatest love-story on Middle-earth – supposedly.  Not so long ago, we were all over each other like a rash.  Now, it’s become almost a duty or else a way of deflating an inconvenient erection as quickly as possible.  Doesn’t that worry you?”

 

The elf fidgeted.  “I suppose so.  What do you suggest we do about it?”

 

“By Mahal!” exclaimed Thorin.  “ _You’re_ the one who has been around for thousands of years and who claims to be the great sophisticate.   _You_ come up with a suggestion!”

 

“W-e-e-l-l,” mused the elven king after a moment, “do you remember that time when Dis was visiting and I pretended to be Dwalin and imagined you were Dis?”

 

“Yes,” snarled Thorin, “it was disgusting!  In what way is that a solution to our problem?”

 

“Yes, I know _you_ found it disgusting, but I, on the other hand, found it quite arousing.”

 

“Really unsavoury,” muttered Thorin.  “Are you surprised I stopped you as soon as I felt you digging into my belly?  That was a really bad joke.”

 

“Not a joke,” mused the elf, “because I really did find it quite a turn-on.  But, I can understand why you didn’t.  What we’ve got to do is to find a role that arouses us both.  It could bring a bit of fun into our lives – bring back the passion.”

 

The dwarf was beginning to show some interest.  “You mean that you’d pretend to be a character that I might fancy?”

 

“And one that I would find exciting to be?” grinned his lover.  “Now, there’s a challenge.  What would you prefer?  Male, female?  Man, dwarf, elf, hobbit or even shape-changer?”

 

“Hmmm,” grinned Thorin.  “Choices, choices!”

 

“But,” continued Thranduil, “I refuse to play Dwalin to your Thorin – that’s much too sensitive a subject for me.  Nor do I fancy being Bilbo – he’s way too small and too much of a rabbit.  So, how about Bard or Beorn or Elrond?”

 

Thorin thought for a bit.  “Nope,” he finally said.  “I don’t find any of them attractive: Bard’s too pompous, Beorn’s too much of an animal and Elrond’s just too….too….Well, he’s just too Elrond for me.”  And he laughed.  “Perhaps it would be best if you chose someone I don’t know – someone you think I might find attractive.  Surprise me with pot luck.”

 

“Yes, a surprise,” said Thranduil slowly.  “What a good idea.”

 

They got up then, had a bathe and went down for breakfast.  “I don’t know how long it will be before I come up with an idea,” said Thranduil thoughtfully over his toast.  “So, don’t get impatient.  I shall be occupied all day with paperwork in the library and that’ll hold me up for a bit.”

 

“The waiting and the anticipation will make the surprise all the better,” grinned Thorin.  “I’m already feeling excited.”  And they went their different ways for the rest of the day.

 

.o00o.

 

Pt II

 

“And All the Men and Women Merely Players”

 

When Thorin looked around the Dining Hall that evening, he couldn’t see Thranduil anywhere.  Still occupied with his paperwork, he supposed.  And so he sat down with various members of his old Company where he had a good time reminiscing with them about their life in Ered Luin.  How long ago that seemed now!

 

In the end, it was quite late before he finally rose from the table and made his way back to his apartments.

 

Early every evening, the servants would light the lamps and turn them up high, so that the rooms were glowing with light.  Tonight, inexplicably, the lamps were turned right down and this was so unusual that, as he peered through the gloom, Thorin’s warrior senses immediately put him on the alert.  He moved cautiously and slowly towards the nearest lamp, but, as he reached to turn it up, he was suddenly seized from behind and pressed up against a central stone column, where his hands were whipped behind his back and he felt his wrists clasped in a pair of handcuffs.  To his horror, he found himself pinioned to and trapped against the pillar and felt a sudden fear as he knew that he was helpless.

 

He heard an arrogant laugh and a lamp was lifted by his attacker to shoulder height.  “You breathe so loud, dwarf, that I could have shot you in the dark,” said a sibilant voice.

 

“Who are you?” demanded Thorin angrily, his heart pounding.  All he could see was a pair of eyes reflected in the glow of the lamp.

 

The face came closer.  “I am Haldir, the marchwarden of Lothlorien.  These woods belong to the Lady of Light and you will go no further.”

 

And then Thorin understood: this was Thranduil’s surprise and he must enter into the spirit of the thing.

 

“Untie me from this tree,” he demanded.  And the lamp was lifted higher so that the light flickered strangely on the planes of his captor’s face.

 

It was Thranduil – and yet it wasn’t.  ‘Haldir’ had the same platinum hair and carried himself with the same air of superiority, but there was a wild and dangerous feyness about him.  Nor was he dressed in the elven king’s long robes but rather in the type of woodland garb that made it easy to move through the trees and fight amid its branches.

 

He pressed closer, seizing Thorin by the jaw and turning the dwarf’s face to the light.  “What have we here?” he sneered.  “We have not had dealings with the dwarves since the Dark Days.  Have they grown beautiful since then?”  And he ran his thumb over Thorin’s upper lip and a cool hand slid down his neck to rest on his collarbone.

 

“So much for the legendary courtesy of the elves,” sneered Thorin in return.

 

“We allow no dwarves here,” was the cold response.  “And you must pay a price for your invasion of our land.”

 

“I have no gold to give,” replied the dwarven king.  “What price do you expect me to pay?”  But, as the elf’s thumb caressed his throat, he knew already and an expectant shiver ran through him.

 

Haldir didn’t answer but, putting the lamp to one side, unbuttoned Thorin’s shirt and, pulling it open, pushed it down over his muscular shoulders.  The elf’s breath hissed through his teeth and he gave an appreciative laugh.

 

“What strength!” he said softly.  “And it is true what they say about the dwarven pelt.”  And he stretched out a hand and tweaked one of Thorin’s nipples.  Then the fingers traced the muscles of the dwarf’s chest and the palm gently stroked the silken hair that thickened as it reached the waistband of his breeches.

 

“Shall we look?” he asked, unbuttoning the belt; and Thorin shuddered, not with revulsion but with desire.  He was unbelievably hard and he groaned as the elf’s searching hand plunged down below his waistband and seized his swollen length.  Haldir groaned too then and dipped his head to draw a nipple fiercely into his mouth.  The mouth sucked harder and the hand slid further under Thorin’s genitals to cup and lift his balls.  “So heavy,” murmured the elf and his fondling made the dwarf sag at the knees.

 

“Shall we taste?” was the next suggestion.  And Haldir knelt and, wrenching down Thorin’s breeches, took his engorged member into his mouth.  Thorin nearly came there and then but he fought hard not to give the elf the triumph of his early release.

 

Haldir laughed at his resistance and rose to his feet.  “What will it take to make you come?”  he asked curiously.  And, grasping a hank of Thorin’s hair, he twisted it in his fist.  The dwarf could see the white teeth flashing in the semi-darkness and then he felt the elf’s mouth pressing against his own, the tongue forcing its way between his lips and then sucking his own tongue back into that wet, hungry maw.  Haldir was fumbling to undo his own breeches and Thorin felt his stiffened cock press into his belly.  “See how I want you,” whispered the elf hoarsely.   “Is it not strange that an elf should want a dwarf?”  And then, grasping his buttocks, he lifted the dwarf off the ground before lowering him back onto his erect member.

 

Thorin cried out and Haldir grunted in satisfaction.  Then the elf began a slow grinding of his hips as he thrust in a lazy and sensuous rhythm.  The dwarven king couldn’t help but return this with a desperate rhythm of his own, gasping and forcing himself down hard upon that tantalising sensation until he exploded in wave after pulsating wave, at the same time as he felt the elf come powerfully inside him.

He could no longer stand and the elf had to pin him firmly against the pillar whilst he undid his wrists from the cuffs.  Thorin collapsed into his arms and Thranduil lifted him and placed him gently on the bed as he moaned out his satisfaction.  The elven king gave a huge, pleased grin.

 

“Was that good?” he asked.

 

“I should say so,” gasped Thorin, his chest still heaving with the effort.  “One of the best ever, perhaps.  I don’t think you could have chosen anyone better than Haldir.  How well did you know him?”

 

Thranduil slowly cleaned them both up with a damp towel.  “I’ve met him a few times,” he said briefly.

 

“You’ll have to introduce me to him,” laughed Thorin.  “I wouldn’t mind meeting him if your role-play was anything to go by.”  And with a long sigh, he sank back on the pillows and pulled Thranduil down with him.  “Yours felt pretty good too,” he murmured before he nodded off to sleep.  “Let’s do it again tomorrow morning.”

 

Thranduil didn’t answer but stared sullenly into the darkness.

 

.o00o.

 

Pt III

 

“They Have Their Exits and Their Entrances”

 

Thorin was not a morning person but the next morning was an exception to the rule.  The moment that the first grey streaks appeared in the sky, he was awake and nibbling Thranduil’s sensitive, pointed ear.  “Come on, my love,” he encouraged, pushing his groin hard against the elf’s thigh as he cuddled up against him, “be Haldir for me.  I’ve been thinking about it half the night.”  And his aroused member prodded the elf enthusiastically.

 

Thranduil seemed irritable and shouldered him away but Thorin reminded him how they had promised each other that they would try to improve their love-life, slipping his hand between the elf’s legs and squeezing him until he had hardened too.  In the end, Thranduil was persuaded to re-enact a forest scene once more, this time tying the dwarf’s hands to the bed-head and ravishing him with his tongue.   Thorin thrashed around helplessly on the mattress until he finally came in Thranduil’s mouth, calling out Haldir’s name as he did so.  Then he wrapped his legs around the elven king’s waist and held him tightly between his iron thighs whilst Thranduil pounded into him and reached a climax of his own.  “Oh, Haldir,” Thorin moaned as the wave of cum overflowed and trickled down his buttocks, “I’ve never been fucked by anyone as good as you.”  He was quite pleased with his role-playing skills and hoped that the elf would be pleased with his response.

 

But Thranduil wasn’t.  “This is a stupid game,” he snarled, as he rolled away from his lover, “and I don’t want to play it any more.”

 

Thorin, who had been on the verge of sleep, suddenly snapped awake again.  “What?” he asked in puzzled tones.  “But I thought these sessions had been really successful – for both of us.  You’re so good at this sort of thing.”

 

The elven king was lying on his pillow and looking quite miserable.  _Oh, Haldir!  I’ve never been fucked by someone as good as you,_ he mimicked.  “All that this pretence has done is simply to prove to me that I can’t stir passion in you any more – only someone like Haldir can.”  And he looked so wretched that Thorin felt compelled to reach out and take him tenderly in his arms.

 

“Oh, my love,” he said gently.  “What’s all this silliness?  Are you jealous of someone you are pretending to be?”  The elf nodded and gave a bit of a sniff.

 

Thorin kissed him on his smooth cheek.  “But, have no doubt that I know it’s you who is making love to me, Thranduil, not some elf I’ve never met.  Now, come on,” he continued, wiping away a tear with his thumb, “it’s obvious that you are the best lover I have ever known.  No contest.”

 

“Well,” said Thranduil, trying to smile, “you haven’t had that many, so it’s not much of a competition.  It would probably be easy for you to find someone better, if you really put your mind to it.”

 

“But, I don’t need to go looking, do I,” replied the dwarf in ever more gentle tones, “because, with your talent, I can have a different person in my bed every night of the week if I really wanted one, can’t I?”

 

Thranduil sniffed again.  “Yes, I suppose.”

 

Thorin took him in his arms and kissed him with love and longing.  “But, I won’t press you, “he said, “if it’s upsetting you.”

 

There was silence for a while, except for a few soft murmurings, as their love was passed between them.  Finally, Thorin said: “But before we give up the whole idea, perhaps I can suggest that the problem with Haldir is that he is a real person.  Perhaps you could be just an unnamed elf or dwarf or man - a generic type.  It will still be you but you’ll be wearing a sort of mask.”

 

Thranduil nodded slowly.

 

“Let’s give it one more try,” continued the dwarven king.  “And, if you agree, I’ll show you something that might help to prompt your imagination.”  Then they went back to sleep for a few hours, cradled in each other’s arms.

 

.o00o.

 

After breakfast, Thorin took the elf deep down into the bowels of Erebor, to a large, cold room that he described as the Robing Room.  It was packed with large chests and, when he threw one open, Thranduil could see that it was full of rich and sumptuous clothing, folded very carefully in tissue paper.

 

“This is where we keep all the finest clothing – the silks, satins, velvets and furs.  It’s very cold down here and so it doesn’t deteriorate, even though some of it is very old.  And it’s not all dwarven stuff – a proportion of it is booty, taken from the elves during some war or other, and some of it is clothing, threaded with gold and mithril, that was made for the men of Dale but wasn’t, for some reason or other, paid for or collected.  Have a look – see if it gives you any ideas.”  And he grinned.

 

Thranduil spent the day there, in a state of ecstatic bliss, opening up and sorting through one chest after another.  By late afternoon, he had his selection and returned to the apartment with it over his arm.  This should keep him going for a while, he thought.

 

.o00o.

 

Pt IV

 

“And One Man in his Time Plays Many Parts.”

 

Thorin felt a certain amount of glee when he saw that Thranduil wasn’t in the Dining Hall once more that evening and hoped he had found inspiration in the Robing Room.  He ate quickly and then hurried back to his apartments.  Yet again, the lights were turned down low although this time to a romantic, moody level rather than a Stygian gloom.

 

A swift glance around the main room revealed that the elf wasn’t there and so he moved to check out the bedroom.  At the door, he stopped in his tracks because, over the lintel, was a sign: _Erebor Whorehouse._ Thorin burst out laughing and remembered a particular night – the only other time, apart from that Dwalin/Dis moment, when Thranduil had indulged in a bit of role-play and had briefly pretended to be a whore from Dale.  They had had a really good night together and it looked as though the dwarf was going to be treated to a repeat performance.  And, when he caught sight of a notice pinned beside the door, he decided that this performance would have all the bells and whistles.

 

The notice was a list of charges attached to all the services that the ‘house’ provided.  Thorin grinned.  Well, if he had to pay then he’d better get some money; and he went to his desk and pulled out a pouch of gold coins from a drawer.  Then he returned to study the list so that he could decide what his requirements were for the night.

 

He was about to knock, when the door opened and Thranduil was there, leaning provocatively against the jamb and looking very feminine.   His hair hung alluringly about his face and a long, silk dress skimmed his body, showing every line.  Thorin hardened immediately, especially since the dress clung in a most unfeminine way to the elf’s own erect member.  The contrast was very arousing.

 

The elf looked at him through long eyelashes, a small smile playing on his lips.  “Can I help you, sir?” ‘she’ said.

 

“I hope so,” grinned Thorin, “because I am feeling very uncomfortable at the moment.”

 

The beautiful lady of the night waved him into the room and, as Thorin brushed past, rubbing against the silken dress, an electric charge ran through him and his impossibly hard erection became harder still.  “What is your name?” he murmured, standing close to her in the doorway, their thighs touching.

 

“Jasmine,” she whispered throatily in return, “after the perfume that I wear.”  And Thorin could smell the lovely, flowery fragrance that wafted from her body.  Then she turned and moved away from him, into the room, gazing back enticingly over her shoulder.  Thorin followed, his eyes fixed on the slender behind as it swayed with an hypnotic motion in front of him.  As the sheer material clung between the clefts of her buttocks, he could see that she was naked beneath the dress.  Thorin could hardly breathe.

 

When she reached the bed, she turned slowly, the shining folds of her skirt wrapping about her legs.  Then, she gestured him to a chair and Thorin sat and leaned back, the better to enjoy the view.   He drew out a gold coin from his pouch and tossed it to her.  Jasmine caught it gracefully and looked at it almost scornfully.  “My cheapest service?” she asked.  “Look but don’t touch?”

 

“To begin with,” replied the king.  And he gestured her to proceed. 

 

It was a heart-stopping performance.  First she turned very slowly on the spot so that he could admire her from all sides.  The rear view was his favourite, with all that platinum hair tumbling down her back and, best of all, that tight little behind.  But, this was closely followed by the side view where the bulge from Jasmine’s groin was really visible, clearly outlined by the silk material.  Thorin’s fingers itched, but the longer he waited, the more intense would be the pleasure when he finally paid to touch.  However, he made her stand in that position for some time so that he could feast his eyes on the sight.  Jasmine gave him a knowing smile.

 

Then she faced him and slowly slipped the narrow straps from each shoulder, gradually sliding the bodice down to her waist.  Her movements were so skilled, as if she had done it a thousand times: every gesture was designed for the maximum erotic effect.  Her beautiful breasts were revealed, absolutely flat but exquisite in form and shape, the nipples a dark pink and very erect.  Every part of Thorin seemed to twitch: his fingers, his prick, his lips.  Have patience, he told himself.

 

Then she gave a seductive shimmy and the gown slipped down to the ground so that she was left standing in a shining pool of silken material from which she side-stepped gracefully.

 

“Turn for me again,” commanded Thorin in a deep voice, thick with desire.  And Jasmine slowly turned on the spot once more before finally lying back on the bed, one knee raised so that her customer would see the further wares she had on offer.

 

Shakily, the king got to his feet and placed two more gold coins on her belly.  “I want to touch,” he said hoarsely.  Jasmine placed the money with the first piece on the bedside cabinet and then flung her hands behind her head in an invitation to the dwarf to explore her body.

 

Thorin scrambled out of his own clothes then.  “If you want to be naked, that will cost you another gold coin,” said Jasmine in a cool voice.  And the king gladly added another to the stack that was slowly growing by the bed.

 

He and Thranduil had been married for several years now and it seemed to Thorin that it had been a long time since he had examined his lover’s beauty so closely and in such detail.  He lay next to Jasmine, resting on one arm, and, first of all, he ran his hand through that beautiful mane of hair, delighting in the sensation of its touch.  And then he traced her lovely features with his finger, lingering especially on the finely moulded lips; and, after that, he ran his fingers down the long, arched neck to those wonderful nipples.  “What beautiful breasts you have,” he murmured, palming the hard little nubs and then rolling them between thumb and finger.  He was pleased to see her mouth open in a little gasp and moved on down to the deep navel.

 

And from the navel, he slid to the genitals at last, lifting and stroking.  “Turn over,” he said hoarsely.  She languidly rolled upon her stomach and he spent some time, squeezing her buttocks and separating them so that he could see the tight pinkness of her entrance.

 

He placed four more gold coins on the cabinet: “Mouths,” he said curtly.  And then he added two more: “And kissing on the lips.”  He knew these ladies could be averse to that.  Jasmine rolled back again and took him in her arms.  Thorin covered her mouth with his own and plundered her with his tongue.  And then he sought out those wonderful nipples and spent some time pleasuring them both there.

 

She trailed her own lips down his body until she reached his genitals, where she took his cock into her mouth.  Thorin was breathing heavily by now and knew he couldn’t stave off coming for much longer.  He emptied the last of the coins onto his own belly and managed to grunt out: “Penetration.”  She raised her head and laughed that she had beggared him before placing the coins in yet another neat stack.  “From behind?” she asked silkily.

 

“No,” panted Thorin in reply.  “I wish to lie on top of you, as a man does a woman.”

 

She spread herself on the bed and the king pushed slowly into her.  The temptation was to ride her hard and fast so that he could release as quickly as possible the enormous tension that had been building up ever since he had seen Thranduil standing in the doorway.  But, showing considerable restraint, he stopped moving as soon as he had penetrated her fully.  He wanted to appreciate what was his, to feel every sensation, to be glad that he had found someone such as this to love.

 

He shut his eyes and stroked her hair, then nuzzled the silken skin of her neck and breathed in her perfume.  His hand wandered over her chest and nipples and then down that slim waist, over the curve of her hip and round to one of the buttocks.  He shivered at the exquisite feel of skin on skin.  And then he focused on his prick, deep inside her: he felt every sensation from the tip to the root as an erotic warmth and strength clasped him in its grasp.

 

He withdrew very slowly and then plunged in again, stopping to appreciate everything once more, both the physicality of the moment and, more importantly, the extreme emotion that filled his heart.  He was there, nearly there, and it began to race through his whole body like a runaway horse.  This time, he couldn’t stop it and he had only a moment to cry out before it was upon him and he felt Thranduil’s engorged prick, trapped between their bodies, give an answering response.

 

It seemed to take him a long time to come down from such a dizzying height and, when he did, he found that he was weeping.  “Thank you,” he gasped, his chest heaving.  What else was there to say?  He felt an extreme gratitude to fate, to the unseen powers, to whatever, that he was here, lying in bed, with someone for whom he felt not only such physical passion but such intense emotion.  Surely no other such partner existed for him on Middle-earth?

 

Thorin held the elven king for a long time in his arms until the cum had dried upon their chests and bellies.  Then he slowly parted from him.  Without a word, Thranduil climbed from the bed and marched to the bathing pool in the other room.  Taken aback by his coldness, Thorin scrambled after him and got into the pool too.

 

“What is it?” he demanded.

 

“We should never have started any of this,” said the elf, as if from a great distance.  “I should never have suggested it.  For it has shown me that what you really want is a woman and that it is something that I cannot be.  Thranduil of Mirkwood is not enough and all you can do is thank me and pay me.”

 

Then he rose from the pool and towelled himself dry.

 

Thorin, at a loss for words, jumped out of the water and dried himself quickly too.  Thranduil had disappeared off into the bedroom where he was pulling on his elven robes.  “You don’t understand,” the dwarf stuttered.

 

“I understand this,” the elf replied, seizing a handful of the gold coins and throwing them in Thorin’s face.

 

“But – but,” continued a shocked dwarven king, “that was all part of the game – payment was on your list.”

 

“And I also understand the implication of what you said when you asked to fuck me lying on my back ‘like a woman’,” he continued.

 

“But you were supposed to be a woman and I was just playing along,” cried Thorin.

 

“And it all fizzled out in the end, didn’t it?” the elf spat.  “No enthusiastic or passionate thrusting.  You just lay there – and came.  I might as well not have been there!”

 

Thorin thought back to that beautiful moment when his whole body had been alive with passion and love.  He stood there with his mouth open.  And, whilst he gawped, Thranduil swung his cloak about his shoulders and strode from the apartment.  Thorin was still naked and it took a few minutes for him to get dressed.  Then he ran down to the stables. 

 

.o00o.

Pt V

 

“Life’s but a Walking Shadow.”

 

It was the middle of the night and the stables were empty except for Thranduil who was saddling his horse.

 

“Where are you going?” cried Thorin, seizing him by the arm.

 

“Where do you think?” was the curt reply.

 

The dwarf cast his hands in the air in frustration: “This is ridiculous,” he exclaimed.

 

“No,” returned the elven king, “I was ridiculous to think that something like this could work.”

 

“Of course it’s worked,” snapped Thorin, “but for some reason, a beautiful, arrogant king like you still seems to suffer from feelings of inadequacy, when it’s an ugly, stunted creature like me who should be feeling inadequate.  What you ever saw in me in the first place I’ll never know.”

 

“Don’t you dare call yourself ugly and stunted,” shouted Thranduil.  “You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.  Every head turns as you walk past.  And that’s the problem, isn’t it?  You could have anyone you wanted.”

 

Thorin reached out and pulled Thranduil to him in a great bear hug, refusing to let him go.  “Now just you listen for one moment,” he hissed in his ear.  “Do you know what I was thinking just before I came, when I was lying there so still?”

 

“No,” muttered the elf.

 

“I wasn’t thinking about Jasmine, I wasn’t thinking about Haldir – I was thinking about you, and only you.  And I was thinking how wonderful you felt and especially how much I loved you.  And I didn’t have to move or stimulate myself any further: merely thinking about you carried me on such a wave of emotion that I had the biggest and best orgasm of my life.” 

 

The elf just looked at him and, finally, with a snort of disgust, Thorin let him go and marched back to his rooms.  He shut the door quietly behind him and then he went and lay upon the bed.  He had given it his best shot and that had been rejected.  Perhaps Thranduil was right and their relationship would never work.  He lay there for several hours, not moving, and then he fell into a restless sleep.

 

.o00o.

 

Thranduil had been riding for some hours when he finally reached the pool where he and Thorin often stopped on their journeys to and from his elven kingdom.  He let his horse graze for a while whilst he thought.  He looked towards Erebor where the sun was just rising in the east; and then he looked westwards towards Mirkwood.  He had to make a choice. 

 

.o00o.

 

Thorin went down to the Dining Hall for breakfast after very little sleep.  He looked dreadful and the other dwarves noticed the state he was in.  Balin and Dwalin gave each other knowing glances.  Their king chose to sit with them because he knew that they wouldn’t ask too many questions; but Balin did ask one.  “Where’s Thranduil?” he muttered.

 

“Gone,” replied Thorin bleakly.  And the two brothers looked at each other again, not daring to ask any more.  The dwarves seated further down the hall nudged each other and a relative silence fell over the room.  Thorin was their king, their leader and their friend: he was one whom they loved and it upset them to see the despair on his face.

 

Half an hour later, the king was pushing his food around his plate, unable to eat, when Thranduil suddenly appeared at the entrance to the room.   “Thorin!” he said in a commanding voice, and all eyes turned towards him.

 

“You are no longer welcome here,” said the king.  And all eyes swivelled back in his direction.  “I would prefer it if you left.”  A few of the ladies gave a disappointed sigh.

 

“I do not intend to leave because I love you,” retorted Thranduil, his chin lifted proudly.

 

“Aww,” said another group of ladies and a smattering of claps echoed around the hall.  So beautiful, they thought.  No wonder Thorin had chosen him as his partner.

 

“But, you see,” replied the dwarven king, lifting his own chin, “I no longer love you.” 

 

A snort of disbelief could be heard quite distinctly from the crowd.

 

Thranduil moved further down the hall, a determined gleam in his eye.  “I don’t believe you,” he said.

 

“No, neither do we,” shouted a laughing voice.

 

Thorin looked rattled: “Believe what you wish, elf, but if you refuse to leave of your own volition, then my guards will drag you away.”

 

“Give him a chance,” shouted another voice.

 

“Can I have him if you don’t want him?” giggled someone else.

 

“Well, dwarf," said the elven king grimly, “if you refuse to believe me then I shall have to prove it to you.”  And he began to close in on the dais.

 

“Ooo,” exclaimed the ladies, all of a flutter.

 

Thorin ignored the repartee.  “There is nothing you could do to prove your love for me,” he said scornfully.

 

“Drag him off to bed, Thranduil!” was a shouted suggestion.

 

“Yeah!  Give him a good rogering!  That should work,” echoed a companion.

 

There was a roar of bawdy laughter and Thorin tried to look dignified whilst Thranduil grinned at him.

 

“I think,” said the elven king silkily, “that your companions know you better than you know yourself.”

 

Thorin lost it at last.  “How dare you!” he shouted striding out from behind the table and glaring around the room.  “How dare you speak to your king in such a way?!”

 

“Because we love you too,” returned a voice from somewhere.

 

“And we know what’s best for you, even if you don’t yourself,” added another.

 

“The elf can fuck me any time,” shouted a female voice.

 

“And me,” echoed a distinctly male one.

 

“Well, laddie,” said Balin behind his shoulder, “you’d better hurry him off to your rooms before someone else does."

 

Thorin felt angry and betrayed by all the support that his lover was getting.  “Come with me,” he snarled and he marched from the room.  Thranduil followed with a wide grin on his face and, as they made their exit, the whole hall erupted as the dwarves cheered and stamped their feet and banged their mugs on the table.

 

But, outside in the corridor, Thorin turned in fury on the elf.  “Get out of here!” he yelled.  “Do you understand?  Get out!”

 

“Yes, I understand,” said Thranduil with a nod and then, in an unexpected move, he bent down from his superior height, scooped the dwarf up in his arms and strode with him, struggling all the way, back to their apartments.  There, he dropped him unceremoniously on the bed.

 

“First,” he said quietly, “I want to apologise for my stupidity and for hurting you yet again.  But, we both love each other, and so, secondly, I am about to do what your companions in the dining hall suggested.”  He grabbed Thorin’s boots and flung them in a corner and then he yanked down the dwarf’s breeches.

 

Opening up his own breeches, he fell upon the dwarven king and pinioned his arms above his head.  Thorin didn’t struggle but said: “If you do this, Thranduil, it really will be the end for us.”

 

Thranduil sighed and rolled away.  “Yes, I know.  But I just kept hoping that you would suddenly see how ridiculous we’re both being, especially when that lot in the dining hall were so aware.”  He sat up slowly and reached for his clothes.  “I’ll go, then.”

 

Thorin’s hand shot out and seized his wrist.  “Oh, no, you won’t – not now that I have this erection that needs seeing to.”  And he looked down wryly at himself.

 

Thranduil laughed and threw himself on him again.  “Oh, my love, he exclaimed.  “What a pair we are!”

 

“Yes, what a pair,” acknowledged Thorin, kissing him.  “The most amazing pair on Middle-earth.”  He seized him by the buttocks and pulled him close.  “And now, how about that rogering I was promised down in the dining hall?  Am I never going to get it?”

 

.o00o.

 

_Hope you enjoyed this and I hope you will share your thoughts.  This is my 23rd story in the Two Kings series and is the last for the moment.  But, they do tend to pop into my head without warning, LOL, and so I won't say this is absolutely the last!_

 

_First story in the series: King of the Antlered Throne._

 

_Previous story: The Kings and the Aphrodisiac._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


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